Dark Orc
Madison screamed again, the sound desperate and hoarse. She had been screaming almost non-stop ever since Grazokk put his big green hands on her and she didn't seem inclined to stop anytime soon. She had never known the touch of a man on her the way Grazokk touched her, his filthy green hands ripping off her bodice to get at her breasts. She squealed like a slit pig when he cruelly pinched at her pink teats and moaned in horror when his powerful tusks tore into her skin. It amused Grazokk to no end to torment and bloody a virginal maid with a crude parody of nursing, exploring the taste of her skin and blood as he ripped off her skirt. His fat green snake nibbled at her thighs, leaving tracks of filthy orc pre-seed as he subdued her for the ravaging. Roughly, he pinned her wrists with one huge hand and used the other to force her thighs wide apart around his broad hips. Rape was always his favorite part of a raid because it always felt so damn fine to split open a tight, innocent snatch around eleven inches of cunt-shredding thickness. Every farmer's daughter felt slightly different, but they all reacted the same way. The glassy eyes at the trauma, the blood from their ripped maidenhead contrasting with their skin, bodies shuddering and whining with terror. Every moment was worth savoring, every breath and thrust giving a similar rush to his other favorite activity - wanton bloodshed. Rape lasted a little longer, but after Grazokk got finished with them, everyone ended the same way. As a poor, silent victim on the ground with gaping holes and covered in fluids! Like poor Madison, smeared in her own blood, bruised from neck to thighs and full of potent orc-cum. A parting gift, or payment for the sack of goods Grazokk hefted with one hand on his way out of the farmhouse. Casually, he knocked a lantern into a bundle of rags - maybe she would get out before it burned down. Maybe not.
The orc was almost whistling as he stepped from the farmhouse, taking a deep breath of the midmorning air. It was a great day to be a big, hulking, orc bandit. Sun on his face, cunt-juices on his dick, blood on his sabre and smoke in the air. It rose from the burning village he had just raided, which was the source of his loot and livelihood. A pained moan broke his spell of enjoyment, and hiking his loincloth up tighter Grazokk casually strolled back toward the barn to investigate. The wrecked building was already a flaming pyre from his earlier exploits, but to his surprise he found the old farmer he'd cut open dragging himself from the wreckage, trailing blood and guts in the dirt. The old goat even had his skinning knife tucked between his teeth, and the comical appearance almost set the huge orc to laughter! "Where do think you're going, old man?" Grazokk let his hands rest on his hips, smirking as the prone farmer slowly dragged himself closer. "On your way to save your poor widdle baby girl?" The orc's gravelly voice did not lend itself well to a high pitched, mocking tone at all. "Well...its too late by half. You want to smell her cunt, maybe taste it? Ask nice and I'll let you suck my dick clean before you die." With a sudden motion, Grazokk lunged forward and brought his boot down on the hilt of the farmer's skinning knife. It shot from between those clenched teeth with a wet sound, taking his tongue in a spray of blood and flesh. "Oh, I'm sorry, I can't hear you...." Grazokk cupped one huge hand over his ear, cocking his head contemptuously down at the bleeding man. "....whats that? You'd like to die now? Alright. Fine by me!" Laughing all the while, Grazokk drew his wicked sabre and with a single slash hewed the farmer open from shoulder blade to pelvis.
The orc didn't stop laughing until he was deep in the forest.
As night fell at the foothills of the mountains, Grazokk returned to his encampment, loot in tow. He set the sack of good by his bedroll and re-stoked the fire, building it back up from the embers he had left. Once it was going well, he hung up his stew pot that he filled that morning and added in some choice meats and such from the village he had razed. Soon enough it would be a delicious dinner, the perfect end to a day of rape and pillage. Grazokk stomped back into the growing dark to visit the stream, to clean himself while his dinner cooked.
Still damp from the stream, Grazokk almost levitated back into his campsite, uplifted by the delicious smell of his cooking stew. "Aw, this is gonna be good. But first..." The orc sat himself down, setting aside his vest and helmet, allowing his chest to air dry as he opened his fat bag of loot. Smaller bags of foodstuffs, vital for a bandit like him. A flask of moonshine, from which he took a deep pull. Nails and locks from the local smith, a few trinkets of silver, and other small goods. Not a great haul, but enough supplies to keep him going until the next raid. "....at least their booze is okay." He took another draw from the leather flask, savoring the sharp sting of the weirdly flavored alcohol. Then another long gulp of the fluid, and before he knew it the leather was dry. With an annoyed grunt, he licked at the spout before recorking it. "Barely enough to get me warm. Fucking lightweights." He tossed the empty flash aside grumpily before stirring his stew, which was not quite done.
Still, there had been at least one nice thing from that raid. The big tittied farmer's daughter was the best lay he'd had in weeks. Tavern wrenches, older women, and his own hand just couldn't stack up to a young virgin in the blush of maidenhood. Grazokk slumped down against his sitting log, reclining a bit as he mentally revisited the brutal rape. Those creamy soft thighs, welcoming and warm as fresh milk around his waist. His fingers tugged at the strings of his loincloth, letting his bloated cock roll free into the cool evening air. With closed eyes, he felt in memory the swollen lips of her uneager slit fighting to reject his drooling tip, he smelled her horror and disgust. To the tender young girl, his manly length must have seen terrifying as any sword! His cock was long, yes, filling a hand completely - Grazokk needed both his mitts to cover his long shaft. He squeezed on it, mimicking the way her cunt had bore down on him. Not from desire, of course, but by the fact that her petite innards were never intended to take such a monstrous cock. The sheer perversion and shattering of his innocence made his dick surge all the harder in his hands, like a bucking animal. Virile as he was, Grazokk was a bit surprised at his own sexual endurance. Usually a good raid n' rape would knock him out for at least a day, but for some reason tonight he just felt - frisky.
His tongue flicked out over his tusks as Grazokk just leaned back, letting one hand play along his slickening length. Precum ran freely from his tip, soaking the shaft liberally as his palm stroked up and down. His low-hanging nuts got their share of splatter on the downstroke, and he parted his thighs to make room. "Uh, gods...I kinda hope she didn't burn. She's one I could fuck twice..." His other hand flopped onto his chest, blunt nails digging through his dense hair there. Feeling along his battle scars, up to one black-skinned nipple. He gave himself a pinch, the painful sensation sending a bolt right down to his big green monster. The fire hissed and crackled as a glob of precum splattered into it, spat from his drooling tip. It was usually against his habit to come back for seconds, but if that dumb bitch could make him feel this good, well. There was always a first time to expand into kidnapping. "Ah...yeah.." Another pinch, and this time he hissed at his own strength and the erotic power that thrummed from hand to hand, passing down through his gut and into his dick.
Grazokk lost himself in a sea of his own lust and memory of the many fine rapes, not just that day's conquests. The screams all blurring together into his own soft grumbles of erotic satisfaction, thinking of the shame the orc-defiled women must have suffered in their communities after his passing. That alone was nearly enough to make him cum, his heart pounding in his chest and breath going shallow. He went to take a deep, soothing breath, wanting to draw out his little jack session as long as possible. An insect or bird fluttered past his face, and he ignored it. Another bit deep into his neck, and reflexively he slapped at it with his chest-pinching hand. When he drew back his arm, his eyes blinked in surprise - there was a small, darkly stained dart between his fingers. Poison! The dart tumbled from his fingers as he lunged for his sword. Just as his fingers brushed the hilt, the leather slipped from him and into the darkness. Wonderment flittered briefly across Grazokk's mind at its vanishing before a snare of rope fixed around his gasping wrist. His campsite was a trap!
Grazokk reached for his knife with his left hand, turning away from his trapped wrist. He barely had it from the sheath before a thin but strong lariat fell over his head. The noose went tight against the side of his bull-thick neck, and a powerful tug put him on his back. From the brush outside the fire's light, more ropes flew with expert speed. Before the dust of his fall had even settled, Grazokk found himself spread-eagled and firmly bound! "Gods be, you fuckin' rangers! I ain't going back to that prison!" He bellowed the words in his deep, gravelly voice, the intimidation factor decreased by his still bobbing hard orc-cock. It hadn't seemed to be keeping up with current events at all! "I'll break out again and this time I'll kill every fuckin' one of ya, not just your wives and kids!" His brawny limbs flexed, hands curling into fists big and hard as bricks. Veins popping up to bulge through his thick green skin when his muscles pulled like mules, the thin ropes groaning softly and thrumming with the stress. Still, they held. For the moment. Grazokk smiled a wily smirk, continuing. "They loved my cock, you know. Begged for their lives- not for you, but pleading for more of my hot cock. You want some too, boys? Faggots jealous of your dead wives?"
The forest was silent, save for the crackling of his campfire. Grazokk stewed in his tied down state quietly, hoping they would take his bait. His teeth gnashed, tusks scraping in frustration as they failed to take the lure. "Come on, boys. Big strong rangers this scared of me? I'm just Grazokk, Scourge of the Lowlands. Grazokk of the Defiled Daughter, the Burg Burner! You chased me all the way here, come on out of the shadows. We can fight hand to hand if you want, unless you're sniveling cowards outside your woody prison." He cast the line out again, using the sound of his boasts and jeers to cover another powerful flexing. One of the ropes seemed keener to snap before the others, which is all he needed. It was almost a disappointment when the brush ruffled, figures emerging. The mocking words Grazokk had prepared for the Rangers of Oakpen, the forest prison, died in his mouth - his captors weren't human. Nor were they elves - a relief considering their brutal execution methods favoring molten silver. The tallest of them might have scraped five feet tall, if that. They couldn't be halflings, never were the small ones so bold.
More ridiculously, Grazokk had been captured by kobolds! The surreal nature of the incident was so alien that the orc rejected it by reflex. Obviously it was an illusion meant to lull his guard! No way could he, an orc twenty hands high and strong as a horse his size, be captured by even a small army of little scaly buggers! It would be as humiliating as having his tusks fall out, or his skin turn pink! As more emerged from the bushes, though, the harder it became to reject the reality. Self-disgust washed over Grazokk like the paralytic poison that was slowly stealing the power from his mighty limbs. "You...you sneaky fucks!" He roared, eyes roaming over them. Nearly a dozen kobolds had assembled in his campsite, dressed poorly in ramshackle leather armor and sporting knives and blowguns. The source of the dart that pierced Grazokk's neck was surely one of them. Several other started to rummage through the orc's gear, sniffing at his stewpot, and throwing his possessions around. There was much chittering in whatever yapping language they spoke when the pillaged supplies were found. "I'll fuckin' crush each and every one of you little bastards. Just you wait a little while, you dumb shits."
One of them, dressed better than the rest, stepped from the rabble. This kobold's scales were shined and lustrous, painted with arcane symbols and patterns. When paired with his strange hat and fine steel handaxe, it created an image of importance. Or as important as a kobold might be allowed to get, anyway. Grazokk felt sick to his stomach when the mystery kobold lifted one clawed foot and planted it square on his chest, standing astride him like a slain boar. "You, uh, won't do nothing. Monster." The kobold's common tongue was halting, but in his slitted eyes there shone a deep intellect and a deeper hatred. His forked tongue flickered out, making a soft, dry hissing sound like desiccated leaves scraping on bone. "Big." A wriggle of the kobold's claw, and several of the scaled party skittered over to the orc's prostrate form.
Without breaking eye contact, the kobold leader yapped in their funny tongue, and hesitant clawed fingers fell onto Grazokk's numb body. The orc growled as dozens of those tiny hands tugged at his thick chesthair and patted at his musculature, finding the perfect places to wrap thin ropes that bit into his tough skin. His feet flashed with pain, but Grazokk refused to give them the satisfaction of making a sound as nimble little knives cut his boots loose. The tatters were pulled off, letting his big toes flex in the cool night air. "I'll make new boots from your skins, just you wait." The kobolds ignored his growling threats, tucking at the laces of his leggings. They pried the leather from his massive thighs and calves carelessly, taking some of his curled black hair with it. At last, the orc was left naked and dripping with precum from his still hard dick. It was a mystery why his fuckstick hadn't deflated, or why he was still so damn horny! "At least I ain't a scaled shitpile walkin'. How's it feel to be king of the pathetic?" It was a weak retort, considering, but Grazokk was too pissed and fuming to let the slightest chance for retaliation untaken.
The leader kobold showed all his sharp, white teeth. A reptile smile. Grazokk never saw the rock the leader's lackey dropped on his skull. He took the express horse to blackout town.